Approval
by MissPixel
Summary: It takes more than big green eyes to get Shinon's attention. Path of Radiance, ShinonRolf. Mean fluff, if there is such a thing.


"You want me to _what_?" Shinon said blankly.

He felt his anger rising as he stared evenly at the little green-haired boy hovering expectantly before him. It would be a while before his temper got the better of him, but too many times had he underestimated the power of Rolf's puppy-dog eyes.

He should have seen it coming. Showing the kid how his recurve bow worked had obviously been a bad idea… like signing his own death warrant.

"Please?" Rolf persisted earnestly, and once again Shinon ignored him and attempted to get around him back into the fort.

"No," he said flatly as Rolf jumped into his way once again.

He could probably squash the kid with his little finger, but that would probably just make him go running off crying to his brothers. Boyd he could take – probably by running intellectual circles around him – but Oscar with a lance might be trouble.

"Cut the crap and get outta my way, Rolf. I need to talk to Greil."

"But Uncle Shi-i-i-i-non," the boy whined – Shinon's eyebrows shot so far upwards that they were no longer visible under his hairline – "you _want _to teach me. Obviously. You showed me your bow for a reason!"

Shinon was still hung up on the 'uncle' part. Uncle Shinon. Clearly, his ears had deceived him.

"It was a whim, okay?" he retorted, putting a hand out to push his parasite out of the way. "Plus, you wouldn't leave me in peace till I did."

Rolf's face scrunched up as he dodged Shinon's swipe. "You're lying."

"And you're a little fool. Go away."

Rolf's hands flew to his hips, and he did not go away.

"You're just being mean because you think you're better than me."

"The truth hurts. Don't get too bent out of shape."

"All I wanna do is learn something! It'll take you ten minutes!"

Finally, Shinon managed to move quickly enough to bypass the leaping thirteen-year-old, and made his way quickly down the open hallway to the fort's entrance as Rolf took to dragging on his tunic-tails.

"For the love of Ashera," he complained, nearly wailing as the extra weight effectively halted him, "does me walking in the opposite direction mean anything to you at all?"

"Teach me how to fire a bow, Uncle Shinon!"

So his ears hadn't been lying after all. How… unfortunate.

"What, so you can go out on the field playing soldier and get yourself diced by some bandit scum before you even draw your bowstring? Screw that. Mommy Oscar would have my head on a platter."

"But – but Uncle Shinon – "

"Ugh! Quit while you're ahead, kid, and stop calling me that. I'm not your damn uncle."

Rolf's brow furrowed. "Stop being so _mean!_"

"_Mean,_" Shinon echoed with a sneer, "so mean. A nasty old monster. Better run away real fast, before I dig out your guts and eat them."

"I'm just trying to talk to you. There must be something wrong with you, because Mist wasn't even nearly this hard to make friends with…"

"Oh please," Shinon scoffed, "I don't need any more friends."

"But you don't have any," Rolf protested, and immediately fell silent as Shinon rounded on him.

"What did you just say?" he snapped.

"Well, you don't," the boy insisted defensively, "I mean, you and Gatrie always go out to those places and come back all tired and wobbly, and sleep till noon the next morning… I guess that means you're friends. And even though you're so nasty to him all the time, Rhys tries to be nice to you… but that's not really… don't you get lonely, with no one to talk to…?"

As Shinon experienced a new height of irritation, Rolf's expression brightened. "You know, if you teach me how to fire a bow, then that'll make me your friend. I don't care if you want to be mine, Uncle Shinon, but I want to be yours."

"No means no, you snot-nosed little horror. Clean out your ears and leave me the alone."

"Just tell me the basics, and I promise I won't bother you any more," Rolf wheedled, tugging on the back of Shinon's tunic.

Strange, how Rolf was selectively permeable to certain types of insults. At this rate, Shinon would have to take lessons on how best to drive off the persistent little bugger. But no, that wouldn't work; everybody he knew adored Rolf… he'd just have to work out his own book of abuses.

The sniper looked down at his parasite, clinging to him like a puppy, and felt his resolve weaken dangerously as Rolf turned to him what must be the biggest and most aggravatingly shiny eyes in Crimea. He replied begrudgingly, unwilling to be taken down without a fight by the pitiful pleading of a child not half his age.

"… the basics."

"Yeah!"

"And then you'll go away?"

"I promise."

Shinon snorted. "Right. Like that means a lot from you, little man. Fine… I'll teach you enough to get you started. But then you're on your own!"

"Got it, Uncle Shinon."

Shinon clenched his teeth and quelled the burst of annoyance, and had no time to reply before Rolf's eyes began to travel hungrily to fixate just over Shinon's shoulder. "Can I use your bow?"

"Ha!" Shinon barked, and, much to Rolf's wide-eyed surprise, unslung the enormous oak recurve bow from its holder without any further protest and held it out, propping it with one end resting on the ground and relishing the moment of shock on his temporary student's face. The vertical weapon stood nearly as tall as Rolf himself.

The green-haired boy hesitated for a moment, evidently stunned at his elder's easy concession, and his hands hovered before the offered instrument as if it were a living legend. As Shinon cleared his throat in impatience, however, Rolf underwent an extraordinary change of heart, and seized at it with a nearly alarming fervor.

"You sure?" Shinon asked once, keeping his hold and resisting the tug. At Rolf's overeager nod, he released the grip.

He waited for Rolf's face to melt into an expression of sheer alarm before letting his sniper reflexes reclaim the bow, and sneered at the rapidly blushing teenager. "Very clumsy, little man. You almost broke it. We'll have to raid the armory for something your pathetic muscles can handle."

So they did raid the armory, and Rolf proved to be even more irritating when he knew that they were breaking rules. Luckily, Shinon's sneaking abilities proved adequate enough to evade even Titania's hawklike prowling while keeping one hand firmly clamped over Rolf's babbling mouth.

"Show me what you know," the red-haired archer commanded, after they had secured a ratty three-pound cedar bow and camped out a few miles from the base. "… or what you think you know."

"I've been watching you," Rolf began eagerly, "sort of… not obsessively or anything. Well, maybe a little, but - "

"Whatever. Speak up or I'm leaving."

"Okay!" the boy cried, and took up the tiny cedar bow, looking at it as if afraid that it would splinter at any moment. "So I think… I think you stand like this. Feet sort of apart, but not really shoulder-width…"

Shinon scoffed inwardly, watching Rolf struggle to arrange his feet in a way that felt least uncomfortable. Let him try to organize his posture in the middle of a battle, with axes and javelins flying at him from every which way…

Actually, it might be better like that. Maybe he'd leave Shinon alone if he just taught him some bogus stance and left it at that. No need to tell him about finesse; it wasn't like he was ever actually going into battle.

"Ha!" Shinon barked suddenly as Rolf's toes turned inward and his grip took a turn for the worse. Before he could curb his tongue, he found himself criticizing and, to his horror, offering real advice. Advice he would give an actual student. "…. your wrist is tilted way too much. Elbow down, wrist up, and hips swiveled towards – "

The urge to laugh at Rolf's jerky movements was strangely absent, and Shinon's temper flared as the boy squirmed hopelessly, trying to fulfill all of these instructions at once and failing spectacularly at each.

"What the hell are you, a rag doll?" Shinon snapped. "This is ridiculous. I can't teach you what can't be learned. You move like a goddessdamn sea slug!"

He didn't feel that annoying twinge of hesitation, that pointless need to mince words and keep himself from swearing, like he did when Rhys was around. So what if Rolf was half his age and vulgarity-deaf? The little whelp would learn sooner or later. And if he insisted on keeping those awful stance habits, then that was the only blessed thing Shinon would ever teach him.

"I – " Rolf stammered, and then in a whimper as Shinon threw his hands to the air and turned to leave, crimson ponytail whipping out behind him in a nearly affronted manner, "…you're leaving?!"

"You heard me," Shinon drawled shortly. "Dredge up some class, if you can, and then try me."

"But I don't know what that means!" Rolf squealed at Shinon's retreating back, "… you have to show me! I _want_ to be graceful, like you, Uncle Shinon, I really do… But I need to learn how! Nobody ever teaches me anything. It's not fair!"

Shit. He was going to cry. Oh, goddess, but Shinon hated the sound of kids crying… not because it made him sad, or anything like that; just because it was loud and obnoxious, an awful sound to have blaring in the background, no matter who was doing it. He'd had his fill already, listening to Ike's baby sister Mist sobbing like a drainspout whenever daddy went out to fight.

"Rolf, don't start bawling like a baby."

"B-but – but – "

"But nothing! Real men don't cry."

Rolf's response was to look at him with eyes that were, if possible, even bigger than they normally were, and completely ignore Shinon's words of wisdom in favor of wailing at the top of his lungs.

"Oh – goddess damn. Stop it! Okay, okay! Stop crying, I'm not leaving…"

Shinon felt very much like an idiot as Rolf's tears evaporated. Taken for a fool by a thirteen-year-old… but whatever. He'd already spent too much emotional stress on this little project to abandon it.

The green-haired child uttered a cry of joy and quickly turned his attention back to the target, wrinkling his nose and closing one eye to squint intently at the bullseye.

"Stop that, too" Shinon snapped, elbowing the boy in the shoulder and eliciting a small yelp of pain, "both eyes open. Use your brain, kid – you can't judge distance with one eye. Just because it feels right doesn't mean it is."

"O – okay."

"First things first: no firing until you give me a distance."

"You mean… how far the target is?"

"Sheer genius, Rolf. I've raised a prodigy."

Rolf was apparently still young enough that sarcasm flew straight over his head. Frowning, he squinted at the flapping target, which was peppered with holes from Shinon's morning practice session. The elder archer winced in embarrassment as he noted the single stray mark on the second ring, removed from the smattering within the bullseye… but that hadn't been his fault. Damned if he'd be held responsible for the distractions Gatrie caused when the knight ran by the practice field trying to seek romantic advice.

"Uh… fifty?" Rolf offered hopefully. "Fifty feet?"

Shinon gave him a withering stare. "What are you, boy? Blind? If that target were anywhere _near_ fifty feet away, you would be out here learning how to lose your arrows in the wind."

He turned to the target and leaned down, placing himself eye-level with Rolf and scowling down the field. "Use what you know. How many paces would it take you to reach it?"

"… I don't know." When Shinon's glare did not abate, Rolf shrugged and squinted again at the target. "Thirty?"

"Thirty sounds good. Thirty-five, to be exact. What's the direction of the wind?"

Rolf opened his mouth immediately, as if to reply, but appeared to reconsider. "Um… should I… wet my finger or something? I've heard that's what – "

"Don't be thick," Shinon interrupted shortly, "you can read the wind without some stupid gimmick like that. If north is toward the target, then the wind is…"

"Southerly!" Rolf said immediately, a smile beaming across his face.

"Wrong," Shinon replied just as quickly, and all joy evaporated from the air. "That's an incongruity that you're feeling. An updraft. Pick out the crosswinds from the strong directional winds – the body of it is westerly, and that's what'll carry your shot."

"Oh," the boy replied, crestfallen. "But… doesn't that also mean I have to raise the angle? Because the crosswind makes the arrow slower while the directional pushes it to the east?"

Complete bastard though he might be, Shinon's arrogance was not quick-witted enough to hide that he was in fact rather impressed with Rolf's sudden display of intelligence. Quickly, he suppressed the approving expression as the boy looked anxiously his way, and donned his usual scowl. Maybe Rolf was smarter than he looked, but Shinon wasn't about to be complimentary and overdramatic about it – let the kid's brothers turn him into a praise junkie.

"Yeah, nice catch. Since you're such a boy wonder, why don't you take your first shot?"

Rolf blanched. "Um, really?"

"Go on," Shinon pressed, waving the boy off, "Believe me, when you screw up, you'll know it."

When Rolf once again tried to take up his "archery stance," Shinon died a little inside. Had he been speaking Gallic this whole time? Rather than try to manually pick out every glaring error he saw, he let his passive critical eye take over. Whatever he said, so be it, no matter how hard Rolf bawled.

"Arm straight," he ordered, jarring the boy's elbow into position. "Don't lock the joint, or you'll break it. Your hips are off center. Body parallel with the bow. Feet further apart… no, too much now."

Shinon gritted his teeth as Rolf, for what seemed like the tenth time in five minutes, altered his death's grip on the bow and shifted his weight from left foot to right. "Stop. Fidgeting."

"But my hands are all sweaty," the boy said, quietly as if afraid he would disrupt concentration he didn't have. Not taking his eyes off the target, he added, "it feels like the bow is going to fly out of my hands…"

"That's a shame, 'cause you'll need a lot more tension than that if you want it to go any farther than three feet." Rolf's face contorted with dismay, and Shinon elbowed him in the back. "You should know that, Rolf, if you've really been watching me. A sniper's arms are his only weapons… build them up and they'll be all you ever need – "

A shriek and a sharp twang made Shinon's heart throb painfully, and just as he felt a small body collide with him, he heard the whistle of an arrow by his ear and saw the slender missile dart upwards past his face. The green fletching-feathers brushed his cheek, and he realized a moment too late that he had come barely a hairsbreadth from being skewered through the eye.

"…"

Strangely, he was not furious, although the expression of sheer terror on Rolf's upturned face was almost funny enough to make him pretend.

"Un – Uncle Shinon," the boy stammered, utterly petrified at Shinon's blank expression, as if the elder sniper might tear out his throat at any moment.

"You're lucky I dodged that," Shinon replied. "Not that I want to know how you managed to fire the bow _backwards,_ but do it again and I'll do a lot worse to you. Hear me, you little brat?"

"Yes! Yes, Uncle Shinon. I understand. I'm sorry."

The kid couldn't keep a grip on a three-pound bow. _That_ was sad.

"Don't waste your breath," Shinon snapped, "hit a target. Make this worth my while."

A half-hour came and went, and the target before them remained clean. Rolf giggled and gestured dramatically as arrows flew in every direction. Shinon corrected his grip many more times than he should have, gave him patience he didn't deserve, quelled his anger impressively. Rolf took it in stride… and continued to do everything wrong.

The last straw welled up unexpectedly, and as soon as the twentieth-or-so arrow ricocheted off of a nearby tree trunk, something inside him snapped.

"Forget it," Shinon snarled, watching the arrow fall limply to the ground and feeling his blood boil.

Rolf's expression of utmost concentration fell abruptly as the elder sniper threw his hands into the air in disgust. "What?"

"You're not even making an effort," he growled. "How the hell do you expect me to teach you anything if you don't even try to correct your damn hold? And goddess, Rolf, screw it if you're just going to waste a dozen good arrows because you're so impatient! This stuff doesn't just come to you, genius. You're not a damn prodigy. You think you have some innate talent; that you can become some master archer without any effort?"

Rolf's eyes were very wide.

"What does it tell you that you nearly took out my eye just now, and not on purpose?" Shinon's lip curled in a sneer. "You don't have _talent_. You're just a pathetic wannabe. Stop deluding yourself like the goddamn toddler you are."

Shinon whirled on his heel in a flurry of anger and stalked away, relishing the shocked silence that hung behind him. Rolf deserved it, every word of it, for that foolish, childish love of danger and battle… he was young, he hadn't learned enough to change his views, but goddess damn! The way he laughed and shrieked and giggled when his arrows went astray, like it was a _game_ –

A loud _thock!_ made Shinon's stomach lurch, and he stopped short. That was a sound that made his muscles tense in battle; that alerted him to danger…

He turned around, and his voice caught in his throat – the Rolf before him was not the Rolf who'd followed him around for hours, who'd badgered him endlessly just this morning, who'd wanted so badly to learn from him five minutes ago. Instead he seemed like a quivering ball of rage, hands clenched tightly into fists around the fragile wood of the bow – if he hadn't bent it far enough before, he was certainly making up for it now – he was shaking with anger, lips pursed as if on the verge of tears, and goddesses, Shinon was absolutely _sure_ now that Rolf had the most enormous eyes he had ever seen…

Thirty feet away, lodged in the white outermost ring of the target, was Rolf's green-fletched arrow, still quivering from the impact.

The air between them felt cold and silent. Shinon didn't need to be an empathetic mastermind to see that Rolf was a tangle of fury and fear, unable to speak through his anger. It was surprising how much emotion could be contained in such a small, ordinary child… his young mind was evidently not built to weather so many insults at once.

Before long, as he witnessed the teary-eyed fury of the tiny green-haired boy who longed so desperately for his approval, Shinon's lips twitched against his will into a smirk.

"… nice shot. What say we make you a real bow?"


End file.
